“Get it taken care of, Apollo. You know it’s cheaper here,” Momma says, silencing their squabbling. “The rest of you can do whatever you like, but Corvus and I have business to attend to.” She nods her head at the small metal crates stacked on the floor. “Pick those up for me.”

Of course. Business. Altair did warn me—though Momma didn’t give the same courtesy before now—so all I feel is weary resignation. I thought I would have more time with my siblings, was even enjoying the familiar bickering between them, but I’m not in any place to complain with my ticket off-world in Momma’s hands. So I obediently bend down and grab the crates, wondering what Momma is offering Altair that’s small enough to fit in these little containers.

“Right, business first, of course,” Scorpia says. I expect her to follow up with one of her sarcastic salutes or dumb jokes before sidling off to the bar downstairs. Instead, she sticks her hands in her pockets and flashes Momma a sharp smile. “I was thinking I should come along, too.”

Forehead creasing, I look at Momma, who is studying her with narrowed eyes.

“Why?” Momma’s flat tone makes it clear how she feels about the idea.

“Oh, I mean, were you really planning on just showing up with your soldier son on display like a trophy?” Scorpia asks, still smiling, head cocked like she’s surprised she has to explain. “That’d be a little on the nose, don’t you think? At least with me along you can pretend it’s a family affair.”

The not-so-subtle jab surprises me, and so does Momma’s lack of shock. My eyes shift back and forth between my mother and sister. There’s a tension underlying the conversation that I can’t pinpoint, something I don’t remember being there before. Since when does Scorpia talk to Momma like that? And since when does she care enough to attend business meetings? She used to be the first one to sneak away to the bar when business came up, like Lyre and the twins are doing right now, leaving me standing between my mother and sister with this awful silence.

“Scorpia is right,” I say, earning myself two shocked stares. I look right at Momma when I say it, ignoring Scorpia’s eyes on me. “They’ll be offended if they suspect you’re using me as a prop.”

Momma sighs.

“Fine,” she says, and gives Scorpia a meaningful look. “But you let me do the talking. One wrong word and you’re out.”